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George had broken his leg. It wasn’t too serious, but he couldn’t do a thing by himself because he was afraid of the crutches. Naturally, both John and Paul had nominated Ringo to be the one to take care of him. They were best friends, after all. But that meant a month of George living at his place, and even though he wasn’t complaining, it was a lot of work.
One particular day, George had been watching television, and Ringo had to go out for the weekly grocery run.
“Georgie?”
“Yes?” The younger man did the best he could to turn around.
“I’m going out to the store to get groceries. I won’t be back for a while. Are you going to be okay here alone?”
George turned back around. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t need food or the toilet or anything, do you?” When the guitarist simply shook his head, Ringo seemed content and left.
-
He hadn’t taken too long at the store, he didn’t think. It had only been a few hours by the time he unlocked the front door. He hurried into the kitchen to set all of his bags down before he dropped anything.
And just then, he heard George. “Ringo! Richie, please!” Now worried, he practically ran into the living room to find George sitting in his chair, his non-broken leg pulled up to him as he hugged it.
“Are you okay?”
He shook his head, throwing his leg down to the floor as he squirmed around in the chair. “I need to piss. Like, right now.” Ringo couldn’t tell by looking at him, but his heart was beating faster than it ever had before.
“Oh, okay.” He walked over to the guitarist, helping him stand up and started to slowly lead him upstairs. He tried to ignore George’s squirming around, but it was making it very hard to walk with him. “Geo, could you stop fidgeting so much?”
“I’m not gonna make it all the way up the stairs.”
Ringo looked at him incredulously. “What? But that’s the only--”
“I can’t, Richie. What am I supposed to do?” He squirmed again, nearly falling over this time. And when his friend said nothing, he broke down in tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this at all.”
“It's… fine. Let’s just try to make it to the toilet, okay?” He rubbed George's shoulder, but the younger man refused to continue walking with him and shook his head.
“I really can’t,” he whispered.
“Okay, erm…” As Ringo thought of what to do, George’s bladder started to empty, and he cried out.
“Oh, God! Richie!”
“George, you can’t get the cast wet!”
George started to freak out. “W-what am I supposed to do?”
“Shit, just… go on the floor.” George didn’t move as his bladder continued to empty. “Go on the floor!” Ringo shouted, scaring his younger friend into pulling himself out of his pants and starting to piss on the floor.
Ringo wanted so badly to not be in this situation, standing right next to his best friend as he lost control of his bladder all over the floor, but he knew that if he moved, George would fall over, and that would make an even bigger mess.
“I’m sorry, Richie,” George sniveled. “I really couldn’t wait.” They both cringed at the way the piss shot back up onto their pants.
“It’s fine, Georgie. You couldn’t help it.”
George still avoided eye contact for the next few seconds until he finished and then himself back away into his damp pants.
“Are you… do you want to get to the toilet now so I can help you clean up a little?” He nodded shamefully. “Alright, let’s get upstairs then.”